


Grin and Bare It

by thegirlgrey



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, POV Derek Hale, drag queen angels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlgrey/pseuds/thegirlgrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek would give his left arm not to remember, in startling clarity, how he drunkenly told Stiles that his feet were cute. He can still hear his own voice, whiskey heavy and warm, blurting out of his mouth while blatantly staring at Stiles’ bare toes.</p><p>“The cutest fucking feet.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grin and Bare It

**Author's Note:**

> This was written after seeing some commentary on a gifset where Stiles climbs out of the ice bath in Alpha Pact.
> 
> I just have a lot of feelings okay?

“This, this was not supposed to happen.”

Derek stares at the ceiling and wishes the pounding in his head a swift and painful death. He doesn’t get the benefit of not remembering anything. He remembers pretty much all of it before he passed out. Some things are a little bit blurry around the edges (he’s pretty sure he saw Isaac making out with Allison _and_ Scott at some point.) But he does get the benefit of experiencing a full-blown hangover. He’s never vehemently hated his healing abilities before. The mind heals before the body and automaticity is bullshit. Derek would give his left arm not to remember, in startling clarity, how he drunkenly told Stiles that his feet were cute. He can still hear his own voice, whiskey heavy and warm, blurting out of his mouth while blatantly staring at Stiles’ bare toes.

“The cutest fucking feet.”

He was vaguely aware that the entire loft had grown hushed and quiet as he spoke. He was just too busy half hanging over the arm of the couch to care. He could barely tear his eyes away from slender toes, elegant bones, and strong ankles. He blinked as the body part in question moved closer to him. He lifted his head and rested his chin on the soft blue suede as he squinted at the boy in disbelief.

“How are you so cute?”

He flailed a hand in a very Stiles like manner at his bare feet.

“Even your feet are cute. _How_.”

Then he took the bottle Isaac handed him, and the rest of the night is blissfully black after that. He does remember that someone tucked him in bed. He can’t seem to remember exactly who, but they took off his shoes. That is the least of his worries. Because there is a steady  _thump, thump, thump_  of a familiar heart beat rapidly approaching the loft. (Derek is steadfastly ignoring the way it echoes the ache behind his eyes in perfect harmony.)

Derek has half a minute to decide if he wants hide from that heartbeat. He doesn’t even try to leave because his head pounds when he sits up. He flops back onto his bed and groans softly at his ceiling. This is all Peter’s fault. Cora wanted to throw a welcome back party even if it was two months too late. And she just had to tell that to Peter of all people. Peter and his fucking spiked whiskey. Derek didn’t even know it was spiked until Scott said something,  _Scott_. Leave it to the kid to show him up again. It’s not that he even hates Scott. He doesn’t. He genuinely likes Scott. He’s a good kid, a good person, and Derek just can’t not see him as a little brother.

It’s just embarrassing that Scott excels where Derek has failed. He’s a great Alpha. His pack is strong and capable. He accepted Derek and Cora and Peter as pack without blinking after they came back (well there was some blinking over Peter). Even his failures don’t look like failures because  _nobody died_. And great. Derek’s depressed and hungover, and there’s the greasy smell of bacon and hot, juicy cheeseburger in his nose and-

“What?”

He blinks up at the bag dangling over his chest. He follows the hand grasping the paper up to a smirking face.

“For a second there, I thought Peter might have mixed the drinks wrong, and you were having some kind of episode.”

Derek groans at the shit-eating grin and snatches the bag away from Stiles. If he’s going to do this, he is damn well going to get a cheeseburger out of it. He manages to sit up without wincing but stays half slouched in the pillows. Stiles leans against his bedside table with his hands in his pockets and ankles crossed casually. Derek isn’t about to bring  _it_  up, so he digs around in the bag. He pulls out a massive burger from Ruth’s Diner dripping grease and cheese. If Derek’s mouth wasn’t watering before, it would have the second his hand wraps around a to go carton of onion rings. The alcohol must still be affecting him because he can’t stop the pleased little moan of satisfaction from escaping him. Stiles fucking beams at him and tips an imaginary hat his way. Derek rolls his eyes and takes a huge bite out of his burger to hide his embarrassed flush.

Of course, Stiles waits until Derek has just picked up an onion ring to clear his throat. Derek closes his eyes briefly, pops the onion ring into his mouth (because fuck it, if now’s not the time for comfort food, when the hell is?), and looks over to Stiles. He’s still leaning against the bedside table. Now he’s staring hard at Derek’s feet under the covers. Derek eats another onion ring and waits him out. If there is one thing Derek is, it's stubborn. He watches as Stiles drags a hand through his hair making it look wild and ridiculously soft.

“Look, what Peter did to you was shitty. He should have told you about lacing the booze. He took advantage of the situation.”

Derek shrugs. It happened. He should have known better. He’s planning on making sure that Peter knows better later this afternoon. His Uncle will heal just… slowly. Stiles however doesn’t accept this. He narrows his eyes. Anger lines his expression suddenly. He looks like he wants to break something. Derek slowly and carefully moves the container of onion rings closer to him and further away from Stiles.

Stiles fights to hold onto his anger. Derek can see his lips twitching. He doesn’t like Stiles mad. Usually when Stiles is mad, he does stupid things like offer himself up as a sacrifice or makes deals with  _Faeries_. Derek likes the quiet of the forest. He does not “enjoy frolicking around in the forest communing with nature and shit” as Stiles puts it. He also does not enjoy being conned into dancing around the forest, naked, under the harvest moon to appease some really fucking judgey eternal beings. His rhythm was in time with the music, fuck you very much Legolas.

“Don’t worry about it. I plan on knocking that lesson into him, _repeatedly_ , after I finish this burger.”

Stiles is quiet for so long that Derek would have thought that he left the loft entirely if it wasn’t for the steady-fast beat of his heart. Stiles rubs at the back of his neck scrunching up his nose.

“Yeah, about that.”

He grins and pulls out his phone. He opens the screen and hands it to Derek. It takes Derek a minute to actually process the picture that he sees.

“Is that-”

Stiles fucking beams.

“Peter ran into some trouble last night. You see, after he left here, he decided that he didn’t want the party to end. He went out to the Jungle.”

Derek nods numbly. His brain is still stuck on the sheer amount of feathers.

“Did you know drag queens take offense to people who spike people’s drinks, especially when those people are friends with their friends? My dad takes offense to people breaking the law, specifically those concerning public nudity and public intoxication. It helps that he kind of really,  _really_  hates Peter.”

Derek laughs. He can’t help it. He pictures the Sheriff hauling his Uncle off in the back of his cruiser. The sparkly pink tube dress, blue feather boa, and the exaggerated makeup must have really classed with the brown vinyl. He’s met The Girls as Stiles calls them. They can be way scarier than any of the monsters Derek has faced when they feel vindictive or slighted. Then he thinks of the mug shot they had to have taken down at the station. Stiles had figured out how to take pictures without Scott’s eyes reflecting the light back at the camera. He needs to get a copy. He’s going to get it  _framed_. Stiles is grinning at him looking pleased. Derek has to put his burger down for a second to just breathe. And of course, of course, that when Stiles’ smile starts to fall away.

“I just, I wanted to make sure that you were okay. Last night, last night didn’t happen, alright? We can forget all about it.”

Derek really wants to agree. He does. But there is this warmth sitting right under his ribcage. The fact that Stiles was so angry on his behalf, was willing to call in favors to make sure his Uncle learned his lesson,  _got his dad involved_ , it makes him feels something that he hasn’t felt in a long time. He trusts Stiles. The reason why he didn’t stop drinking last night was yeah, Scott was there, but more importantly Stiles was there. Stiles was there and was watching over him and Cora, and he  _trusts_  Stiles.

“I don’t want to forget about last night.”

He says it to his half finished burger. He’s stubborn, but he’s also kind of terrified of this whatever it is. He’s terrified of whatever it could be. He and Stiles have always had a connection. They’ve hated each other, graduated to barely tolerating each other, to constantly saving each other, and within the last year they’ve become friends. If pressed, Derek would admit that Stiles is his best friend. That’s what makes everything so difficult. Because Derek falls for the people he shouldn’t. He fell for Paige, and Kate, and Jennifer. Now he’s falling for the one person he trusts since he was 16. He’s falling for the person that he needs the most.

“I know, it’s kind of hard to get that image of Peter out of your head.”

That’s why Derek needs Stiles. Stiles doesn’t push him. He doesn’t want to change Derek. He accepts him and his flaws and fuck ups and his inability to actually use his words. He gives Derek an out. He always gives Derek an out. This time… Derek doesn’t really want it. If he’s being honest with himself, last night was a long time coming. He’s noticed Stiles, the way he’s grown more confident, more sure of himself, stronger regardless of the darkness that Derek knows he feels surrounding his heart. That’s probably why he kind of slipped up and started falling for the kid. Stiles is so much stronger than he realizes.

“I’m not going to forget that anytime soon. And I’m not going to forget what I said last night either. It was true.” 

He steels himself and looks at Stiles. Those eyes are staring at him wide and warm, and a look of pure fucking awe takes over his face so quickly that Derek can’t help but to surge up to press his lips against those slack ones just to try and taste it. Stiles goes completely still against him. Derek’s heart sinks as he slumps back into his pillows. He starts trying to think of a way to fix this, to make it okay. He will grin and bear it to save whatever relationship he has left with Stiles after this. 

His thoughts are interrupted by Stiles shoving the food out of the way, so he can kneel next to Derek on the bed. Derek tries to speak only to have Stiles cut him off with a kiss. Derek wraps an arm around his waist and just holds on. Because, of course, Stiles kisses with every fiber of his being. Derek knows it’s not the best kiss. His lips are slick with grease. He has stale whiskey morning breath. His beard is longer than he’d like, and it’s rough even against his own skin. It’s not the best kiss, but it’s perfect. It’s perfect because it’s just so them.

When Stiles pulls back, there’s a smudge of grease against his left cheek from Derek’s thumb. His skin is already looking a little red around his chin and lips. Derek is probably a little biased, but he thinks it’s a really good look on him. Derek would be happy to stay in bed for the rest of the day and learn how Stiles kisses, how he likes to be kissed, how he likes to be touched. Stiles is stealing his onion rings and giving him a wide, happy grin that quickly turns into a mischievous smirk.

“I feel like we should even the playing field. So here it goes, your ears are fucking adorable. Like seriously. They are so tiny and precious, and I just want to-”

Derek hits him square in the face with a pillow. It only muffles Stiles laughter. Derek can’t really complain. 


End file.
